


rather be with you

by somepeoplearewild



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Genderswap, Girl!Derek, Girl!Stiles, High School Student Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22014244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somepeoplearewild/pseuds/somepeoplearewild
Summary: Stiles is accidentally gay for 3,000 words.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 90





	rather be with you

**Author's Note:**

> rather be with you - vanessa hudgens 
> 
> this is the first thing i’ve written in a long time. pls be gentle with me

Fuck that stupid fucking _bitch_. If they weren’t on the same sports team, and Stiles didn’t rely on her to help them make state this year, she would break her legs. Honestly, what the fuck does she think she’s doing inviting _Stiles’_ best friend (and unrequited love) to her stupid birthday party? Thank god Scott’s too oblivious to pick up on the meaning of that dumb cunt’s eye fluttering and hair twirling, accepting the invitation before turning to Stiles who has been quietly seething behind him while Fuckface McNiceTits pretended she didn’t exist.

“You’re going too right?”

“Of course,” Stiles grits out, forcing a smile as she moves to stand beside Scott. It puts them at a perfect angle for the girl in front of them to notice their horrendous matching holiday sweaters, and Stiles is suddenly happy that Scott strong armed her into wearing them with his pouty face earlier.

Dera’s dumb green eyes flick to and from their matching apparel without blinking, appearing thoroughly unbothered. “I thought you said weren’t going,” she says in a flat tone as she acknowledges Stiles’ presence for the first time, a complete 180 from the suggestive lilt of her words previous.

“I said I would think about it,” Stiles lies, hoping to god that Derek doesn’t remember their conversation from a week ago at their last practice before the holidays.

Of course she does and calls Stiles on it immediately.

“You said you’d rather ‘suck on a tampon.’”

Scott gives Stiles a horrified look in her peripheral vision, but Stiles refuses to be made a fool of by someone who thinks wearing thongs is a personality trait, so she lifts her chin a little higher and completely ignores Scott.

“Which is disgusting, and the reason why I’ve decided to go to your party instead.”

Dera’s eyes narrow at Stiles challengingly before a wolfish grin spreads across her face in a way that’s entirely too sexy considering how scary it is as well. Stiles remains forever jealous of Dera’s innate sex appeal. It’s not fair that puberty gave Dera double d’s and child bearing hips when all Stiles got was taller than most guys and carpal tunnel from masturbating too much.

“Alright. I’ll give you Scott’s spot on the list, and he can be my plus one. I assume you’re not bringing anybody.”

“Guess not,” Stiles forces out as she struggles to keep her hands wrapped firmly around the handles of her shopping bags rather than Dera’s throat. It becomes a near impossible task when Dera lays a pitying hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I have a lot of single friends. You have to be _someone’s_ type... Anyways, I’ve got to get going. I’m glad I bumped into the two of you,” she smiles saccharinely, eyes focused entirely on Scott before she walks away.

“I hate that cunt,” Stiles mutters, stomping off in the direction of American Eagle while Scott follows, admonishing her language.

••••

Not to be dramatic or anything, but Stiles is literally about to have a meltdown. In the past, Stiles has never cared about looking good for parties because the only person she would ever care to impress is Scott and he’s already seen her in a night retainer, but for some reason she has this weird feeling that she should dress up for Dera’s party. And she doesn’t even know why she feels like that because there’s no possible way she could ever look better than Dera even with all the wax strips and makeup in the world.

Dera is ethereal with her long black waves and infuriatingly clear skin. And don’t even get Stiles started on her _eyes_. God, if Stiles had eyes like that she would be unstoppable. If Stiles had _anything_ like Dera, her life would be at least 10% better. In fact, at the current moment, Stiles could really benefit from having Dera’s wardrobe.

She just knows Dera’s going to be in some tight little dress with stupidly tall heels, and while Stiles isn’t entirely opposed to wearing dresses herself, Scott is already shorter than her so she couldn’t wear the shoes to match lest she look like a palm tree next to him.

The only thing even slightly sexy that Stiles owns is a black tank top that shows just the tiniest bit of her stomach, which is decidedly _unsexy_ because it’s so pale. Not to mention the fact that Stiles wouldn’t dare leave the house in a tank top because she’s covered in all these ugly moles and freckles and she’d rather not have someone try to play connect the dots on her back again. That was so humiliating.

Stiles tries on the tank top, then immediately regrets everything and puts a cardigan over it. That will have to do. Plus, the red sweater matches her red sneakers.

Stiles doesn’t bother with her hair, knowing no amount of curling or teasing will give her shoulder length, pin straight hair any volume for longer than fifteen minutes. She does, however, put on some mascara because if there’s one pretty thing about her, it’s her long eyelashes. And apparently her mouth, but Stiles doesn’t accept compliments from guys jacking off in the grocery store parking lot.

With one last heaving sigh at her reflection, Stiles leaves to go pick up Scott.

••••

“Are you wearing makeup?” Scott snorts as he buckles his seat belt, cowering in on himself when he looks up and sees the deadly look on Stiles’ face. “I didn’t mean in like a bad way,” he quickly backtracks.

Stiles chooses to ignore him and watch the road, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. It’s just as much a defence mechanism as it is a way to make Scott squirm without giving away how much his comment actually hurt her feelings. All she has to do is show up to Dera’s party and be a goofball with her teammates for half an hour, then she can ditch Scott to go cry in the shower where no one will see her shame. That sounds like way more fun than spending an entire night at a party dedicated to her unofficial arch nemesis anyway.

“You look really pretty, Stiles. Jackson won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you.”

Stiles slams on her breaks, tires skidding on the gravel road that leads through the preserve to Dera’s ridiculously huge house. The action throws Scott forward, effectively shutting him the fuck up for a few minutes while he catches his breath as she continues driving like nothing happened.

There’s an ongoing joke/rumour that Beacon Hills’ lacrosse captain and resident douchenozzle has a massive boner for Stiles. Basically, everyone is suggesting that by tormenting her and calling her a spaz and constantly parking his stupid fucking Porsche so close to her driver’s side door that she has to get in the passenger side and climb into the driver’s seat, Jackass is “pulling her pigtails.” Which is completely ridiculous because he’s been balls deep in Lydia Martin for like six months, and if Stiles can’t compete with Dera, then she definitely can’t compete with Lydia’s perfect self.

Scott knows how she feels about the Jackson situation anyway, but he insists that Jackson has thing for her. Scott is many things, but he is neither intuitive nor observant, therefore Stiles cannot trust his input. Besides, even if Jackson _did_ like her, he’s done everything wrong that one can do wrong when trying to impress a girl. Contrary to popular belief, Stiles does have standards. She’s not going to jump at the first guy who’s interested in her.

“You should give him a chance.”

“I would rather blow a cactus.”

“Stiles.”

“Like deepthroat it.”

“Stiles!”

“Like get the whole thing down my throat and _swallow_ –“

“Okay, fine! I get it!”

When Stiles glances over at Scott, the boy is beet red and covering his face with his hands, which is hilarious but also kind of depressing that he’s not even the least bit turned on by Stiles describing her hypothetical fellatio technique. Granted, the cactus part might be throwing him off, but still. Stiles gets turned on when she watches the dryer go even though she knows her dad’s boxers are probably in there. 

••••

Dera’s party is just as lame as Stiles imagined it would be. There’s not a lot of people; only about thirty, all of whom Stiles knows. They’re all milling about the basement with cups in their hands, talking and listening to soft rock in some weird display of mock civility. Basketball jocks are laughing with lacrosse jocks, preppy girls are hanging out with sporty girls, seniors are mingling with freshmen, and Dera Hale is flittering from one group of people to the next with a smile, charming the fuck out of everyone.

Just as Stiles suspected, Dera’s wearing wearing a long sleeved, olive mini dress that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. If she were to bend over, Stiles would probably see her cervix.

The second Dera spots Scott, she excuses herself from her current conversation, sauntering across the room with this smirk that even makes Stiles weak in the knees. She’s truly the most irresistible person to ever walk to face of the earth, and fuck her for it.

“Scott,” she greets flirtatiously, doing her usual bit of ignoring Stiles until it’s time to embarrass her. Well, Stiles already feels like a clown without Dera’s help tonight, so she might as well get the humiliation over with on her own terms.

“Dera!” Stiles crows with false excitement before Scott can say whatever dumb nice-person thing he‘s about to. Stiles fits herself in between Scott and Dera, wrapping the birthday girl in a fierce hug, definitely not trying to wrinkle her dress or anything petty like that.

“I’ll tear your throat out,” Dera spits before she can catch herself, accidentally breaking character and being her regular ole bitch self in front of Scott. Even if she did get with Scott, he would eventually break up with her after realising how rotten Dera is.

“With your teeth. Yeah, yeah. Buck the fuck up or shut the fuck up,” Stiles grins, releasing Dera. “Love the dress by the way. Really brings out the burning hatred in your eyes.”

Dera rolls her eyes at Stiles, false (ha!) lashes fluttering a bit. “Drinks and snacks are at the bar. Rum is in the punch in the blue bowl. The other bowl isn’t spiked. If you tell my mom there was alcohol, you’re dead.” Dera spares Stiles one more challenging glare before reaching around the taller girl and grabbing Scott’s wrist. 

“Let’s go play pool.”

••••

Dera’s older sister Laura is sat behind the bar, quite obviously guarding the top shelf alcohol in the liquor cabinet behind her. She looks a lot like Dera, except her eyes are brown and her face is a little longer. She’s still really hot, but she’s no where near as gorgeous as Dera. Not that Stiles thinks it’s necessary to compare everyone to Dera.... but she usually ends up doing it anyway. Add that to the list of Reasons Why Stiles Is Pathetic.

“What do I have to do to get a shot of whiskey,” Stiles groans, hopping up onto one of the barstools and slamming her face into the counter. She hears Laura chuckle then the sound of liquid splashing into a cup. Stiles looks up just as Laura replaces the ladle in the punch bowl. The nonalcoholic one. Laura sets the cup in front of Stiles with a smirk. “You’re really gonna do this to me in my time of need?”

Laura doesn’t reply immediately, reaching under the counter and pulling out a bottle of Everclear, which isn’t Stiles’ liquor of preference, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“It’d be a shame if I made myself a drink and accidentally left it on the counter where anyone could pick it up. _Oh nooooo_ ,” Laura smiles wickedly, pouring a good three shots into the cup of punch.

“Have I ever told you that you are my favorite Hale?”

“About a million times. Drink up kiddo, I’m trying to actually start a party here.”

Stiles grabs the cup and chokes down half of it before the feeling of the alcohol literally evaporating through her nose gets too much and her gag reflex starts to kick in. She starts to pull it away from her mouth, but Laura puts her fingers under the cup, tipping in back into Stiles’ mouth.

“Atta girl. You can do it.”

Stiles drains the cup with tears in her eyes, taking the container of margarita salt Laura holds out and pouring it directly into her mouth. It’s less than two seconds until Stiles can start feeling the buzz between her eyes, grinning up at Laura who pinches her cheek proudly.

“Now, take this cup over to Dera. She’s far too sober for a sweet sixteen.”

Stiles salutes Laura before heading off in the direction of the pool table, the floor not quite as stable under her feet as it was before.

“Drink,” Stiles says plainly, holding the cup out to Dera who’s leaned against the wall pouting. It probably has to do with the fact that Scott and the other dumb jocks are fooling around with the pool sticks, not paying one lick of attention to Dera and her Tiny Dress.

Dera’s eyes flick from Stiles eyes to the cup before she shrugs and takes the cup, knocking the whole thing back in one go like a fucking goddess. Stiles entirely blames her intoxication for not being able to take her eyes off of Dera’s neck as she tips her head back to get the very last drop. Stiles’ mouth goes completely dry at the sight, and suddenly it is very very hot in the room.

Stiles attempts to pull her buttoned cardigan over her head, completely forgetting the fact that she isn’t coordinated enough to do that sober much less drunk. Oh fuck, Stiles is so drunk.

“You’re wasted,” Dera snorts, not unkindly as she untangles Stiles from her sweater and chucks it onto a table. One might even describe her tone as _fond_. Stiles kind of likes fond Dera.

“Oh yeah,” she agrees with a dopey grin.

“Let’s go see what the girls are doing.” Dera grabs Stiles by the wrist like she’d done to Scott, dragging Stiles over to their teammates. The unusual lack of fighting in relation to their proximity raises more than a few eyebrows, particularly from Braeden, their team captain and Dera’s best friend, who greets them with a shit-eating grin.

“Fuck off,” Dera spits before Braeden can even open her mouth. Nobody else talks to Braeden like that not out of respect for her as team captain but because she’s the most intimidating person to ever intimidate. She’s the perfect combination of determination, confidence, and accuracy while somehow coming off devastatingly cool unlike most other high school overachievers who seem desperate for success. And just because the universe is unfair, she’s also really hot.

“What? Am I not allowed to appreciate the fact that my players are putting aside their differences and getting along?”

“No,” Dera answers automatically, still gripping Stiles’ wrist even though she has no reason to maintain the contact now that they’re standing still. Well, Dera is standing still. Stiles might be swaying a little. 

“They’re just drunk,” Julia says with the air of a disappointed mother. She’s so annoying, always acting like she’s the Obi Wan of the team. Stiles doesn’t even bother with her most of the time because Julia is usually too busy kissing Dera’s ass, and Stiles goes out of her way to avoid interacting with Dera outside of team obligations.

“Annoying, you are,” Stiles replies in a bad Yoda voice. “Fuck off, you should.”

Stiles looks at Dera for her reaction, fully expecting a bitching, but Dera just smirks back at her before raising a challenging eyebrow at Julia. “Care to join us?”

Julia scoffs, flipping her annoyingly tight curls over her shoulder. “Pass.”

“Suit yourself.”

••••

It’s 3 am and Stiles is proud to say that she successfully partied so long that she managed to get drunk and sober up twice in one night. Well, she’s mostly sober now because there’s no way in hell completely sober her would be following Dera down a dark hallway in her hundred year old haunted mini mansion. This is the perfect setup for Dera to murder her in cold blood. Supposedly, she needed help getting blankets and pillows for everyone to crash with, but it’s been a full 6 hours of constant interaction with Dera, and it’s terrifying Stiles how well they get along when Scott “Leaves His Best Friend At A Party To Bang The New Girl” McCall isn’t involved.

Dera flicks on the dim light of the closet, revealing two huge floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with all kinds of comfy shit. And also Dera. Right there. Like three inches away from her face.

Stiles screams and jumps back into the shelf, knocking off a bunch of pillows that proceed to rain on them.

Instead of chiding her, Dera bursts into laughter, leaning against the shelf behind her for support while she looses her shit in the most attractive way possible. Her smile is so wide, full of sharp white teeth and this melodious sound. She’s laughed at Stiles so many times, but this is different. Without the malicious edge, it’s probably the best sound Stiles has ever heard in her life.

Her laughter slowly fades, a self conscious blush spreading across her cheeks as Stiles realizes she’s been staring. “What?”

And there goes Stiles’ English. Well, all of her English except the words ‘my body is yours’, but she doesn’t think those would go over well so she’s keeping them to herself. “Uhhhhh....”

“Is that all? ‘Uhh’?”

Oh fuck. Oh _fuck_. Did Dera’s voice just do a thing? Stiles thinks it did a thing. A sexy thing. A fuck me now thing. Stiles isn’t equipped for this situation. She’s never made anyone cum before in her life except herself. Dera can’t be the first. That’s like going from the kiddie pool to the Atlantic Ocean. Dera is too hot to have Stiles’ mouth on any part of her immaculate body.

Actually, no.

Stiles _does_ have a pretty mouth, and it _does_ belong on Dera’s tits. And Dera’s hands do belong under her tank top. And holy fuck, this is actually happening.

Stiles stops trying to fit Dera’s boobs into her mouth from the outside of her dress long enough suck one of her luscious pink lips into her mouth, eliciting a moan from Dera that goes straight to her nipples. Stiles buries her face in Dera’s neck, sucking and biting like a poorly trained vampire.

“Wait! Wait!”

Stiles immediately pulls off of Dera, putting space in between them.

“Not that I don’t totally want to do this with you...”

And here comes the rejection.

“.... but, Stiles, I like you a lot. I don’t think I can just hook up with you.”

_What the fuck?_ “What the fuck?”

“I know you don’t feel the same-“

“What.”

“-that’s why I kept it a secret so long.”

Stiles waves her arms frantically in the air,narrowly missing Dera’s person. “So you mean this whole time you’ve been terrorizing me–“

“Terrorizing is a strong word,” Dera winces, but Stiles barrels on.

“-taunting me, making my life a living hell, we could have been _fuCking_?! Going on picnics?! Feeding each other grapes?! You mean this whole fucking time I thought I was jealous of you, but I was just attracted to you? Am I gay?! Oh my god, but what about Scott? I guess I’m bi then. Are you? You were so into him.”

Dera folds her arms and shrugs, a sour twist to her lips. “I don’t know. It was kind of a two birds, one stone situation. I just... didn’t want you to be with him, and I also didn’t want everyone to know.”

“That you like me?”

“That I’m lesbian. I don’t even like guys.”

Stiles feels her jaw drop as all the puzzle pieces fall into place. “And you started that rumor about Jackson liking me?”

“No,” Dera frowns. “That’s not a rumor.”

“Literally the worst thing I’ve heard all night including when you just said you wouldn’t take my virginity.”

“Because I like you!”

“And you wanna take it slow?”

“Not really, but-“

“Then what the fuck are we waiting for? I like you. You like me. Let’s do this. Or should I say ‘les do this’?”

“You should say nothing at all. Ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> the other fics will get updated eventually. i’m almost done with two of them.
> 
> also don’t take stiles being nitpicky with her own body the wrong way. i wasn’t making statements about certain features


End file.
